All I need to get by

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, nor do any of his little, warped chums and associations. They just happen to be addictive, it's not my fault.

Summary: Draco Malfoy owns half of Surrey, but isn't happy. He's happiest when enclosed within St Mungos; not clinically insane (although the Head of the Unspeakables thinks he is) but actually helping people.  So when the newest Unspeakable operation goes horribly wrong and the best Unspeakable winds up on his ward, is he mature enough to change his mind about her?

Default Chapter: Operation Stonehenge

         Agent 433 huddled closer to the material of her Unspeakable uniform, gripping her wand with tingling fingers. Over a London heath the heavey cover of gloom had fallen, rolled in London fog and blanketed in London not-quite-darkness. She was standing behind a Alder tree, a witch tree, heart quite still and steady although she moved her fingers nervously. Somewhere in the far distance a car horn sounded angrily, rising and falling in pitch as it passed the heath. The cement path running by her feet was flanked by short, morn grass; in the morning when all traces of the operation were removed several joggers would pound along it. Lights of all different hues gleamed in the gloom, some houses, some streetlights. A faint breeze carried the sound of music beats towards the area, and a scream of laughter drifted towards them.

       Although there were some twenty Unspeakables posistioned around the park, 433 felt horribly alone. They had been talking about this for over a year; their one chance, the big one. Finally the capture of the newest dark powers that the Unspeakable departments in the whole of America and Africa had failed to destroy. And finally it had come, the telephone call from the American Ministry of Magic asking for the help of the British Secret Service, as 433 fondly referred to her work colleagues.

       Quite suddenly, with a tiny pop, the entire atmosphere became magnetised. Twenty-two Unspeakables tensed and grasped their wands in calloused hands. Grim smiles spread over some faces, other brows furrowed in concentration. Agent 433 took a step out from under the Alder tree, hands shoved casually into her pockets. There was a sharp exclamation of breath, and the sound of someone turning too quickly on leaves. 433 swallowed smoothly, and stood still.

"Who's there?"

         The voice that spoke failed to inspire the same terror that Voldemort had in the agent. It was too high and girlish, aggressive and not sly. 433 smirked under her hood, and held up her right hand in a gesture of peace.

"Me," she said simply.

        There was no movement for a moment, and 433 almost whooped in delight. Her carefully sculpted face remained passive under the hood however; even if the man couldn't see her, smiling made her feel vulnerable in an operation. Instead she grasped the thin chain of liquid magic flowing through her neurons and focused on the dim outline of the man's upper torso and head. Legilimens she whispered in her mind, and waited for the connection to come.

        Dim pictures flashed in her mind; first the inside of a tiny holding cell, a shahib of magic somewhere, a little girl with wide blue eyes. 433 frowned – the girl was familiar. Suddenly to the right of them came another scream of laughter. 433 stiffened, and fought to untangle their minds. There was a pop of apparation, and only the vague lingering of several blocks of crooked grey stone remained in her mind.

         433 did not move, nor did she swear or blaspheme, she didn't grind her teeth or stamp her foot. Instead she raised her wand from inside her sleeve and prepared to apparate.

"Stonehenge!" she called, and vanished.

          Thornton Heath was filled with twenty two cracks, and left empty. On the other side of the heath a muggle girl in red stillhetoes and a mini skirt screamed in laughter again as she weaved drunkenly across the street with her boyfriend.